


ink soaked skin

by misswriterly



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Magical Fucking Machines, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 20:16:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14386308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misswriterly/pseuds/misswriterly
Summary: The Struggling Artist's Model learns a dangerous secret from one of her employers and summons a demon to protect her. She gets The Quiet Deviless instead.





	ink soaked skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [farevenasdecidedtouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/farevenasdecidedtouse/gifts).



As she neared completion of the ritual markings, the model paused with her brush hovering above the final symbol of summoning. If she completed the stroke there would be no turning back. But if she did not there would be many risks and few rewards left ahead of her.

With a deep breath she drew the final downward mark of the symbol, tying it into the circle of its sibling marks. One by one the marks began to glow. Moving slowly around the circle to follow them, her breath caught in her throat. Then, as the last mark lit up like the others to complete the chain, a faint breeze ran through the room. Inhaling sharply, the model looked around but all the windows and doors of the room remained closed.

Yet, when she turned back to the center of the room a woman stood before her. Dark eyes gazed back at her calmly and a small smile twitched at her lips.

"I'm sorry, but how did you get in here?" the model asked with a nervous glance at the markings by their feet. The glow had disappeared again from the markings and left them dusty and dull. They would at least be hard to notice against the scuffed floor of her bedroom now, but equally easy to disrupt and the model didn't know if she could repair any damage in time for a second attempt at summoning before dawn.

The other woman didn't respond. She stepped neatly around the edge of the summoning circle instead and placed a small bag down amongst the model's belongings on her dresser.

"This is a private lodging. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the model said. There was a tremble in her voice, but she thought she'd covered it admirably until the other woman looked over at her once more. Her eyes were pools of inky darkness. It felt as if they were drawing her across the room to drown in them. Then the model blinked and the spell was broken.

"After all that trouble you went to to call me here," the woman said. Still calm, she opened her bag and withdrew a dark red lipstick and began to touch up her make-up in the dresser mirror.

"No, I didn't. I was calling a demon," the model said in confusion as she glanced back down at her circle. Then she trailed off and looked up with wide eyes. "You?"

"Me," the woman said. She turned as she spoke and began to walk slowly towards the model. A long slip of fabric was twined through her fingers now, and it slithered slowly out of the top of her bag to trail behind her as she walked. The model stared, transfixed for a moment by the shimmering pattern of it, until the stranger reached her and drew her face down with gentle hands.

She made a noise of surprise at the tug, but those red lips met hers before she could protest. The woman's lipstick tasted sickly sweet. The taste exploded against her tongue and left her weak at the knees. But the other woman's arms were strong where they wrapped around her, and they lifted and carried her to the bed with ease.

"Who are you?" she murmured as she sunk down into the pillows in a daze.

"I am the Quiet Deviless and I'm here to save you. For a price."

The model stared up at the woman in surprise. "Price? What price?"

"One sweeter and more terrible than the price of a demon would have been," she replied. When the model tried to question her further, the Deviless pressed a finger against her lips to quiet her. Then she began to arrange the model as she willed. She tugged her gently further down the mattress and undid the fastenings on her clothes, leaving the model spread and displayed to the Deviless' gaze. Then she lifted the model's wrists and crossed them above her head and began to wind the mesmerising fabric around them. The model watched, entranced, as the pattern continued to shift and shimmer as it moved. Until finally there was no more fabric left to wind and she realised she was held fast within its confines, her wrists bound as firmly to the headboard as they were to each other.

She started to protest again. But the Deviless simply held a finger against her lips once more and gazed down with her dark eyes. When the model didn't subside, the Deviless bent her head and pressed another sticky sweet kiss against the model's lips until she moaned and went limp against the mattress.

Then the Deviless turned and glided back across the room to her bag. This time her shoes scuffed straight through the model's hard work. The little scraps of paint peeled and tore themselves away from the wood beneath her soles and scattered like dust in the wind while she tutted at them.

"You will have no need of that now," she said firmly, though she did stop to pick up the model's brush and hold it up to the light of a lamp with a considering look. Then she placed it into her bag and carried the bag over to beside the bed.

The model swallowed hard as the bag was once again opened and carefully riffled through. There was glimpse of more fabric in its depth, and various shades of metal and the occasional glint of a blade. But the Deviless only calmly extracted a small pot of ink, the model's brush, and a large copper box which she placed on the mattress beside the model. She paused with her hand hovering over them, and then returned to tug two more strips of fabric out of her bag which she wound into two small balls and placed beside the other things.

"There. Now we are ready," she said with satisfaction. She reached between the model's legs and quickly stroked a finger between the lips of the most intimate part of her. The model bucked and groaned in surprise at the touch but the Deviless paid her no heed. Instead she took her shiny wet finger and stroked it down the metal contraption.The box made a whirring noise and then began to pull itself apart.

The model raised her head and saw a flash of gears here and a gap appearing and disappearing there as the object re-arranged itself. Finally it settled again with a distinct click of pieces slotting into place. In its place sat a metal phallis large enough to make the model clench her thighs together and topped with a strange, small length of metal precariously held up on a bed of wires which she could not begin to understand the purpose of.

But the Deviless simply smiled an unnervingly contented smile and stroked the device again. Under her touch it shivered one final time and the seams of its pieces melted and melded until it appeared to be one solid piece of workmanship. Not an object capable of changing shapes at all. The small piece suspended above it rocked and strained towards the Deviless' finger for a moment before it also went still.

"What do you want from me?" the model asked with her gaze fixed upon the device. Her voice was barely a whisper but it still seemed to her that it echoed in the bed chamber.

"I want you to carry a very special message for me. One that requires a very particular form of parchment," the Deviless said. She placed the device between the model's legs as she spoke. When the model shuddered and tried in vain to scramble back up the mattress, she simply nudged the device closer until its cold smoothness rested firmly against her once more.

"Please," the model said, but even she didn't know quite what she was asking for.

"This is attuned to your desires now but I can tie your ankles as well as your wrists if you prefer," the Deviless offered. Her eyes seemed kind as her fingers lingered over the two balls of shimmering fabric, but the model shook her head in silent plea and she left them where they lay. "Very well, then we shall begin."

She nudged the device once more and it made its whirring, gear clicking noise again. But to the model's momentary relief its shape did not change. Instead it surged forward under its own power, without the Deviless' hand to guide it. The model yelped and arched her hips but that only helped the device to find purchase against her as it slipped between her lips and pressed against her entrance. The cold of its metal surface chilled her skin even as nervousness sped up the beat of her heart. It felt even larger against her than it had looked.

"I don't," she gasped. Her eyes desperately sought the Deviless' and caught there, entranced again by their dark depths. The Deviless didn't look away, holding her gaze as she murmured soothing words at the model. Soothing words that did nothing to slow or stop the device as it began to push its way inside her.

At first it seemed like it would make no progress. The model panted desperately as the pressure increased. She was aroused by her companion's appearance, as the Deviless' fingers had discovered, but surely not yet enough to smooth the way. But the copper surface was as sleek as it appeared and the model abruptly broke their staring match as she was breached. She arched back helplessly against the bed with a mewl. Undeterred, the Deviless continued to murmur as she reached for the pot of ink and removed the lid. Distracted by the sensation of something surging its way inside her, the model took no notice until her own brush touched the soft skin of her stomach.

Looking down, she gasped again. The device began to rock in time with the Deviless' brush strokes. It slowly broke her open a little more with each rock until it had made a place for itself inside her. Its pace was slow but insistent even as she struggled to take its width and she was quickly lost in the sensation of it full and heavy within her. Finally it came to a stop, fully sheathed in her body. Slowly her awareness returned to her and she grasped exactly what she was seeing.

The metal of the base of the device glinted cheekily at her from between her legs. But above that the Deviless paid it no heed as she stroked expansive swathes of ink across the model's skin. The angle was wrong for her to see them so it took her a moment to realise what she was looking at. But when she did she cried out in alarm and tugged at her bonds. As she tensed, she clenched down unwittingly on the device within her.

Caught between the sensation of being filled more than she could bear and the tickle of the brush, she was caught by surprise when the small piece of suspended metal swung itself into her. It collided with her body above where the rest of it was buried in her. The firm tap of it against her left a spark of sensation that flooded out through her body.

Surprised, the model clenched down again and it swung once more. A gasp broke from between her lips as it collided with her and the Deviless looked up.

"I promised it would be sweet," she said with a smirk. Her eyes lingered on the model for a long moment. Suddenly, the model was more aware of her heaving breasts and the tightness of her exposed nipples than of anything else. The model licked her lips and tried to still herself, with little success. Her hips rocked ever so slightly against her will and she closed her eyes in defeat. Her hair was already tangling around her head and as she struggled for breath the device swung against her once more, and she no longer wished to be aware of what she looked like.

The Deviless' hungry gaze was a familiar one. Many an artist had possessed the same gaze as they claimed she was their muse in an effort to slip her clothes from her body. But somehow the Deviless' eyes cut deeper as the device tore her control from her shred by shred.

But she needed to muster control from somewhere. Below that deep gaze the brush still stroked against her, and something about the markings was disturbingly familiar. The model breathed deep and then choked as the device began to rock once more in countpoint to the swing.

"Just let it happen," the Deviless murmured. But the model gritted her teeth and opened her eyes. She let the noises bubble up from between her lips without halting them, let her body be moved as it would and teased as it would. Instead, she tried to rise above it even as she felt her climax rise within her. Higher it drove her, and higher, until she was groaning without restraint.

As she trembled on its peak, the markings on her body finally clicked in her mind and she recognised them. Eyes wide with fear, a wordless groan of protest broke through her sounds of pleasure. The Correspondence. The Deviless was writing The Correspondence across her belly.

"You can't. It will drive me mad," the model protested. She begged and pleaded but the Deviless was unmoved.

"Oh, but I can," the Deviless replied as she lifted the brush away from the model's skin. Her free hand slipped between the model's legs like an afterthought and pressed the device hard and deep within her until she finally shuddered and tipped over into freefalling pleasure.

The noises from her own throat sounded foreign to the model as she was lost to sensation. The marks on her belly warmed and cooled with each crest of pleasure until finally she fell back limp against the mattress. Wrung out. The Deviless hummed thoughtfully and returned to her writing again. Before she did, however, she gave the device another nudge.

The model cried out as the rocking began once more, even as every inch of her shuddered and sparked with pleasure. When she tried to squirm away, the Deviless finally reached for the extra fabric to hold her still. The device's rocks turned into long, deep strokes once her legs were pinned down, and she clenched helplessly and endured the swing as each stroke bottomed out.

Her voice was hoarse by the time dawn began to creep through the windows. But the Deviless' eyes remained kind and her face thoughtful as she stroked more symbols down the model's arms and around the curves of breasts.

"Perhaps this time," she would murmur each time the model approached another trembling peak.

"Perhaps next time," she would murmur as the ink cooled once more and the device began to fuck her harder.


End file.
